Renascence
by Lizicia
Summary: Some things can't be solved by friendship alone and Emily really should talk to someone who isn't her friend to solve the emotional knot Ian Doyle brought into her life, to regain herself as much as she can and move on. H/P, post-season 7, with a dash of hopefulness.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I guess this story stems from my discontent with how the show treated Prentiss' return, how she just went back to her life like nothing had happened, except for her one talk with Hotch in the beginning and then her departure because she didn't feel right anymore. And nothing happened inbetween. I didn't expect a full-on PTSD (which would've been great, too, if done properly) but more background, more story-telling, more Prentiss. And now she is gone and I just feel like so much was missed and this story came to be.

This will be dealing in-depth with her psyche, the conflicts, doubts, questions, etc, with a dash of H/P for good measure and in slow progression. There will be sessions with the psychologist but I will throw in other elements as well. Hopefully, I will manage not to bore you and create more interest in real psychology, not the kind of disoriented mess you usually see on TV.

**Disclaimer:** The characters don't belong to me and I'm merely borrowing them for entertainment purpose.

* * *

_Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over._ (Gloria Naylor)

* * *

When Prentiss shows up the next morning, she's carrying two cups of coffee. "Can't be a date unless there's coffee involved." Her smile is soft, if somewhat hesitant and Hotch offers a small smile of his own to make her feel more at ease.

"Thank you, Prentiss." It's black with one sugar, just the way he drinks it and he tries not to dwell on the fact she knows it so well; she's a profiler, so she would know how he takes his coffee, wouldn't she?

She sits down opposite him, the desk between them a barrier – or a defensive wall, depending on who's labeling it. She looks uncomfortable and a bit on edge but Hotch doesn't prompt her, doesn't reach out because he knows she will want to start with something innocuous, not dive right in to whatever has brought this behavior on.

But Prentiss still manages to surprise him. "I've been offered to head the Interpol's London office. Clyde called, said he would need someone to run a team because while he knows better not to think I would want to work undercover with them again, to have my own team would be great."

Hotch is not really surprised but while he was expecting something like this to have happened, he feels a slight tinge of irritation towards Agent Easter – _Clyde_ – who can, by just one phone call, make Prentiss think about leaving.

"It sounds like a wonderful opportunity and you would be more than adequate for the position, Prentiss. Had you reached out to him beforehand?"

She gives him one of her beautiful, mischievous small smiles. "Hotch, I... Can we not talk like chief and subordinate but like...friends?"

This request does surprise him; in his mind he was doing just that but it seems he has been treating her like a subordinate for far too long to efficiently switch over to friend. He has never really _tried_ to be friends with her; rather it has happened over time and he's tried to inhibit it for reasons far too complex for him to ponder while she's still looking at him expectantly.

"I apologize, Prentiss." The smile doesn't fade. He stands up and gestures towards the couch, sitting down side by side with her, to relieve them both of the desk which belongs to a supervisor, not a friend. Once they're seated, he turns to her and adopts a more genial tone, the kind he never brings to the office but always wants to use with her. "Do you want to head Interpol's London office, Emily?"

She turns serious now, contemplating the question in her head. "I...I don't know, Hotch, honestly. I feel like I haven't really thought about this but if I don't go now, then I'll never leave."

"So you want to leave this team but not necessarily for Interpol? Just leave?"

It sounds accusatory to her even if he didn't mean it like that, even if he has the right to feel like that. After all, she hasn't forgotten the hurt all over Morgan's face when she told him. But she won't lie to Hotch either.

"Yes."

The silence spans after that but she sees nothing on Hotch's face; he is far too guarded for that, having mastered the art of wiping his face clean whenever needed. She has come to both hate and appreciate this; she dislikes it being directed at her, when she's trying to gauge his emotions and fails and yet she understands its necessity whenever he needs to goad suspects or not reveal anything to supervisors. But this same ability of his is also the reason she actually fears being his friend because it's hard for her to understand whether they really are friends or where they stand on the spectrum of emotions and feelings.

"This still goes back to Doyle, doesn't it?"

His question catches her by surprise so she has no time to school her features and he easily reads everything; the shame, the pain, the guilt, the relief.

"I know that you've been good at your job and you have managed to convince us you are fine but I know you haven't been. I told you once, you can come to me whenever you're having a bad day, but why haven't you since then?"

Aside from the one time he asked her to, Emily has stayed away from taking advantage of that proposition for reasons she is not quite ready to divulge. But there are reasons beyond Hotch, so she focuses on those.

"This is not about having a bad day, Hotch. This is me having a bad, I don't know, year? It's just not _me_ any more. And it's not about the team because you have all been wonderful and accepting. I'm not even sure what to say. I just don't...feel like me and I know I'll never get back to the way I was but that isn't stopping me from trying."

It's a mess of her thoughts and feelings and the more she thinks about it and tries explaining it, the more complicated it becomes. She doesn't know what to think, how to feel, what to do with her life.

"And you think that by leaving the team, you will gain back some of what you were?"

He is trying to understand and she is grateful but there is too much of what she can't say to even remotely begin to untangle the knot that her life has become. And while this friendship is welcoming, she cannot share some things with Hotch merely because they revolve around him.

"I have realized that while I acted as your supervisor when I asked for your psychological evaluation, I was worried for you as a friend and ultimately, it was your friend who went behind your back. I apologize for that, Emily, I really do."

He is being sincere and hits a sore spot because he had betrayed her then and once again, it must be written all over her face because his features soften and he acquires a somewhat sorrowful, somewhat shameful look.

Emily doesn't want him to feel guilty over that but she can't hide that she had felt every bit hurt and ashamed and betrayed when he recounted the lies she had spun for FBI's compulsory psychologist. Afterwards, she had been so relieved that he had noticed, it masked any hurt but now it's all rushing back in.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing here, Hotch." The admission is quiet and painful but so truthful; after all, they've been throwing around words like _friendship_ and _trust_ so why shouldn't she put meaning in them?

"I think you should talk to someone."

"I thought I was doing just that."

He indulges her quip with a small smile but doesn't let the conversation turn humorous. "I mean a professional, Emily."

"Because that turned out so good the last time."

"It could turn out better. I'm not talking about the FBI's psychologist but someone whose evaluation doesn't affect your job."

"With the level of classification required, there is hardly anyone I could seek out."

He nods thoughtfully but the look in his eyes tells her he has been thinking about this far longer than just this conversation and he already has a solution.

"I know someone who I found to be very helpful after Foyet, who has been through the process of being qualified to deal with that level of classified information."

It's a thoughtful suggestion but Emily feels petrified at the thought of having to go to a psychologist who has treated Hotch because to untangle the everything would be to talk about him and wouldn't that be breaching some sort of ethics? She's turning the wheels around in her head, almost panicking as the moment grows, trying to figure out a way to say no but still accept his help.

"I remember he told me about his ex-wife who works for the Pentagon as a psychologist and she would definitely be qualified for a case that involves the likes of Ian Doyle. I could get you in touch with her, if you're willing to think about it?"

The relief she feels at realizing Hotch would never go against any kind of rule or ethics code sets her mind at ease and she is willing to consider anything now. "I'll think about it, alright. Thank you, Hotch."

There is an indulgent smile again and before he manages to wonder how exactly he's come to know and differ every smile Emily could have, he impulsively tries to hold on to the hope of keeping her with the team. "Will you promise me not to leave before you've talked to her? I don't want you to make a rash decision or any kind of decision that you can't really explain to yourself."

She nods hesitantly, not willing to break the contact between them any more than he is. "I'll do that."

It's not much yet but it is a start.

* * *

**A/N:** So, is it any good, are you feeling interested? I am pretty terrible with multi-chapter stories but I will try and write, provided motivation in reviews.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed, hopefully those alerted but not reviewed will find it in them to leave a few words this time :)

For the role of Dr. Mallory, I have cast the wonderful Kelli Williams, specifically her portrayal of Dr. Gillian Foster in _Lie to Me_. If you've seen it, you know I'm aiming for softness paired with professionalism and while she is very much like Dr. Foster, they will not be identical; if you haven't, then you really should, although it won't stop you from understanding.

* * *

_The purpose of psychology is to give us a completely different idea of the things we know best._ (Paul Valery)

* * *

Emily stares at the piece of paper in her hand, taking the time to trace the letters in the name first with her eyes and then with her fingers. _Dr. Helen Mallory._ And a phone number, mobile, not office. It seems like her whole life depends on this number and while that seems too dramatic at first, she realizes it is the truth; after all cliches are born from the truth. So before she can talk herself out of it, she dials the number and waits, heart beating faster with every passing ring.

"Hello, this is Dr. Mallory."

"Uhm, hello. Am I speaking to Dr. Mallory?" And she cringes because the woman who answered just said she was Dr. Mallory. Her nerves are really not doing her any good.

"Yes, this is still me." Not a hint of annoyance or even sarcasm, only warmth and before she has even met her, Emily finds herself liking the woman.

"Hi, I'm Emily Prentiss. I think my supervisor, Aaron Hotchner, or maybe your husband, no, ex-husband, talked to you and, uh..." She has possibly never felt so embarrassed before. At least not since she was 14 and Gabriele Marconi asked her out for a _gelato_ and she, in her beginner's Italian said she was lactating. So she's been reduced to a pubescent girl, great.

"Oh, Agent Prentiss, how wonderful of you to have called. Are you ready to meet, say, the day after tomorrow, around four?"

She's taken aback at first, having wanted to maybe just hint at a session but now the doctor is already planning her schedule. But what if this is what she needs and this person who she hasn't even met yet can sense it? After all, she is a psychologist.

"Alright. Do you want me to come to the Pentagon?"

Dr. Mallory chuckles softly, even laughs. "No, I don't think that's the appropriate location for our meeting. I'll text you the address, alright?"

"Of course."

She hangs up and feels like smiling. Emily Prentiss is volunteering to go and lay herself bare in front of a psychologist and she's smiling. That doctor has to be something special to have this effect already.

* * *

She pulls up at a beautiful red house in Wesley Heights and re-checks the address. But she hasn't made a mistake; this is the address Dr. Mallory gave her for their meet and while it seems odd to be meeting here, Emily is certain the doctor has her reasons.

She rings the doorbell and it only takes a minute for the door to open. The woman who greets her is in her early 40's with reddish-tinged shoulder-length light hair, wearing a navy blue dress and she could be the most welcoming person Emily has ever seen.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Mallory and you must be Agent Prentiss. Nice to meet you." She offers a quick strong handshake and gestures for her to enter.

The house is decorated tastefully and Emily notices the surroundings when they enter what appears to be a psychologist's office to which she quirks an eyebrow.

"Do you have a home office in addition to the Pentagon?"

Dr. Mallory smiles warmly and shakes her head. "Not really. This belongs to a colleague of mine who caters to the more...affluent circles, so this is her practice but she was willing to let us use it for the time being. I hope you don't mind being here?"

"Now that is a loaded question." Emily quips in return but then blanches slightly. Should she be joking with the psychologist? Dr. Mallory must be already analyzing everything that is being said, remembering it all and making conclusions already. Now she thinks Emily doesn't really want to be here, great.

But the doctor only chuckles in response. "A healthy sense of humor is always good, Agent Prentiss. Please, have a seat."

They sit opposite each other; Emily on a cream-colored small sofa, comfortable for remaining seated for a long time and Dr. Mallory in a dark plum armchair.

"So, first things first. Do you wish to be called Agent Prentiss or Miss Prentiss or Emily or something else? Feel free to call me Helen; Dr. Mallory has always seemed so formal."

Her mindfulness sits well with Emily who's feeling relaxed already, despite the unfamiliar environment and she wants to respond in kind. "You can call me Emily then."

"Alright, Emily. Do you mind if I take notes? A recording is out of the question, naturally, and I certainly won't write down anything classified or even use your name. Just some observations, for myself, which couldn't be subject to a court order either."

She thinks about it for a moment. She understands the psychologist's need to take notes for remembering important things and she is fairly certain this woman in front of her will do exactly what she says, nothing more but they are still strangers to each other and she never trusts strangers.

"Just notes for your personal use?"

"My personal use and nothing else."

"Then it is fine."

Helen smiles and takes a small black notebook and a pen, opening them from where the bookmark is.

"Let's start with something simple. Tell me this, you must know a lot about psychology, being a profiler?"

"Well, yes, but we focus mainly on behavioral psychology and specifically the psychological profile of serial killers, so I wouldn't quite call myself a psychologist. But I am familiar with the science."

Helen nods and smiles encouragingly. "I thought so. And surely you have been to a psychologist before?"

"For the annual evaluation at the FBI and after the...incident. Not for personal issues." She doesn't know how she should call being hunted by the man who she once helped put to jail and who, in retaliation, made her life a real hell. What do psychologists call that?

"I thought that for this first session today, we could just talk about what I do and you can ask me questions, to get you settled in a bit. And then, next time we meet we would turn to the issues at hand more specifically. How does that sound?"

_Sounds like you're very good at your job,_ Emily thinks to herself but doesn't feel any resentment, only acceptance. "That sounds good. So, you're a psychotherapist?"

"Well, I'm a psychologist by degree and a psychotherapist by training and my main focus is on cognitive behavior therapy which comes down to a systematic process of searching for the cause of the problem and dealing with that. There are no easy solutions here, Emily, and I'm not a mind-reader nor a miracle-worker."

She still exudes a lot of warmth and compassion but Emily also realizes how professional the doctor is being, firmly reminding her that sessions are not meant to be easy or carefree and Emily herself is responsible for any progress she will be making. She has never been anything but self-sufficient and while the idea of getting help from someone else was a bit disconcerting at first, Emily is not about to back down or walk away but is determined to go through with this.

So she nods. "I completely understand, doctor." The woman smirks and Emily corrects herself. "Helen." For that, they exchange genuine smiles.

"So, what are _you_ expecting from these sessions, Emily?"

It takes a moment to gather her thoughts, to think about what she's willing to say at this point until she finds the right words. "I don't want to feel the way I've been feeling for the past year."

"But that is what you _don't_ want, Emily. Tell me, instead, what _do_ you want?"

She's puzzled for a moment as she tries to discern the difference between those sentences. Being a profiler, she understands that not wanting something is not the same as wanting something else, unless she says just that.

"I guess I want to be better, I want to be the way I was before the...everything. But I'm not sure that's possible anymore."

Helen writes something down – she must have been taking notes for a while now but Emily hasn't had time to focus on that – and fixes her thoughtful gaze on the agent again. "Alright, that's a start. But, tell me this – why do you think it may not be possible?"

She exhales on a loud sigh, feeling a bit exhausted already from the analyzing but understands how that will be beneficial for her in the long run. "Well, I don't know. Is it ever possible to go back to something, to being someone you used to be? I can be one or the other but I can't turn back time and not end up in Ian Doyle's cross-hairs or never even have met him in the first place. I am who I am now because of what he did to me but I want to be able to live with myself too, being this person. And whether _that_ is possible, I don't know either."

Helen stops writing and looks at Emily now, the gaze in her eyes more professional but still not lacking in warmth. "Now that, Emily, is the question we can find an answer to. I can't turn back time either but dealing with what's happening in this moment, is the first thing. So maybe we should stop here for today and come back to this the next time. How does this time work for you?"

"It's fine, I'm available. I may be called on a case, though – serial killers aren't usually considerate of me having made plans."

They stand and Helen smirks and Emily remembers her words about humor being a good sign.

"Well, in that case, if you know you won't be able to make it, call me and let me know. So, I'll see you next week, unless a serial killer is interfering with that."

They're walking towards the door now. Emily nods and they shake hands, and she is once more comforted by the presence of this professional but warm woman, the image of the slightly bored and calculating FBI psychologist far from her mind.

* * *

**A/N:** So, I hope you like the good doctor, at least enough to keep on reading. Next chapter will bring back Hotch and I'll focus more on the effect Ian Doyle must have had on Emily. Hope you read this far and will leave me a review.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm glad you liked my addition of Kelli Williams to the story and that you're still interested. For that, I give you a whole chapter of H/P to be enjoyed from Hotch's POV for a change.**

* * *

_As in friendship so in love, we are often happier from ignorance than from knowledge. _(Francois de la Rochefoucauld)

* * *

"Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner."

Hotch's voice is weary and tired and he must not have even looked at caller ID because he greets her like a stranger.

"It's Prentiss."

The tone of his voice changes almost immediately. "How was your day, Prentiss?" She has always preferred talking to him over the phone because his voice gives more clues than his face and she can hear the concern and something softer too.

"I...don't know, honestly."

"You went to see Dr. Mallory, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did and it was..."

She is silent, gathering her thoughts and grateful that Hotch allows her this moment.

"I'm not expecting a report from you, Emily, or a detailed account of what happened. This is just one friend asking from the other how she's been."

She smiles at that, both for him using her given name and for the definition of them as friends.

"Well, then, I could use a friend and a glass of wine."

They agree to meet at a bar they're both acquainted with, where they won't chance upon the team; they need this privacy to regain a tentative hold over the something they both share.

* * *

Hotch arrives first and orders two glasses of the red wine he knows Emily enjoys drinking without a thought. He catches the fleeting thought that it should maybe surprise or even bother him how well he knows her but refuses to entertain it further. They are friends, no matter how undefined they've been in the past and he will do whatever he can to support her in this; after all, Hotch is familiar with the strain therapy can bring on.

"Hey, am I late?"

Emily arrives a bit out of breath but Hotch finds himself liking the slight blush on her cheeks, the way her hair is wind-tousled and her eyes even have a sparkle he hasn't seen in a while. But he doesn't dwell on it much further and instead, offers her a welcoming smile.

"No, I arrived a bit early. I ordered the wine."

She gives a grateful smile and sits down, smoothing down the unruly hair and for a moment, silence falls upon them. Neither is quite sure how to start or where to begin and the moment carries on until the waiter arrives with their wine and suddenly, the tension breaks.

"Dr. Mallory was not what I was expecting, to be honest."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

They both chuckle.

"It's a good thing, actually. She was so warm and welcoming, unlike the psychiatrists I've met until now. It was a bit disorienting, though, meeting someone who I liked from the first moment, you know? But it wasn't bad."

"So you'll keep seeing her?"

"I think so, yes. She didn't really give me much choice about that but that also didn't feel wrong, somehow. It must seem really strange, right?"

Hotch mulls over the question a bit, thinking back to his own sessions with his therapist. He isn't sure he's felt like that but he knows the feeling she is thinking of. Feeling like there is someone who just understands you, who accepts you, who doesn't judge you no matter what. Once upon a time, right after Foyet, he felt it from the woman sitting across the table from him and then let it slip away because he didn't know what to do with it.

"It's not strange, Emily. You felt trusting towards someone and it's a good thing. We don't trust enough because of all the things we've seen and yet, maybe we should."

She gives him a hint of a smile and sips her wine but doesn't reply to that directly; there is no need to remind Hotch where he stands in trusting people.

"We didn't really get to the hard questions yet; maybe that is why I felt so good with her. I'm not sure how I'll feel after the next session when we talk about...the reason I'm there."

He doesn't ask which reason that is because she could only be referring to Ian Doyle. There is a lot they don't say about him, a lot they've ignored and keep ignoring. Hotch has his own ideas about the influence the man had on Emily's life – and career – but he's been careful not to breach the wall Emily has carefully constructed around her life at Interpol. Her unwillingness to give out anything about Ian Doyle was the main reason he advised her to see an actual therapist.

"There are going to be good sessions and times when you wish you had never gone there. She will undoubtedly upset you because she'll make you face things you don't want to dwell upon but in the long run, I hope you'll be better."

She is quiet but he thinks she would want to ask about his experience, around Foyet and realizes this horrible experience is also one he shares with her. They've both had a true monster dominate their lives, and while his loss in Haley may be considered greater, Hotch has no doubt the emotional sacrifices they've had to make are any different. He just wishes they shared more than the horror and gore which overshadows almost every bit of their relation-_friendship_.

"After Foyet, I put on a brave face but I wasn't really ready for it all, like you. Morgan thought I needed more time, Dave thought it best to leave me to my own devices and you...you really were there for me. And I haven't really said it before but thank you, Emily."

If he were a better and braver man, Hotch would decipher the look in her eyes in a heartbeat but he has always had trouble ascribing meaning to her emotions. Every profiler has a blind spot and he thinks Emily might be his while he purposefully ignores the unspoken truth that blind spots occur when strong emotions are involved. He never has trouble reading Beth.

She seems a bit uncomfortable and he notices the faint traces of a blush on her face. A confession like that, from him of all people must have caught her off guard; otherwise she would be better at masking her reaction.

"That's what friends are for, right." Her voice lacks conviction and is still showing the effect his words had on her.

The waiter once again makes a perfect approach, asking if there's something else they would like and refills their glasses. The minute he stays at their table once again breaks the tension and Hotch thinks, somewhat amused, that there should always be someone ready to interrupt them or he just might get carried away with his heartfelt words.

"So, how's Jack? And Beth?" She starts off this time, trying for something innocuous and simple.

"Jack is doing fine. I sometimes worry about him but we manage, with Jessica."

"And Beth, of course."

"Yes, she's been great with Jack and everything else as well."

For the first time since he's been dating Beth, Hotch notices a slight hesitation or even apprehension in Emily's tone of voice when she names Beth. It's not dislike but rather reluctance to discuss the woman who's so much like herself – and yet so very different.

That realization almost startles him; he has never given much thought to how alike the Emily and Beth are, not only in their physical appearance but in their personality as well. Maybe that's what actually drew him to Beth and with no limitations to their relationship – limitations that spell _fraternization_ and _relationships with co-workers_ – he gave it a green light.

"Aaron?" His first name snaps him out of that uncharacteristic train of thought and Emily laughs a little at the surely startled look on his face.

"Sorry, but I've been calling you Hotch for three times now and you just weren't responding, so I tried your first name..." She trails off and he realizes this must be the first time she's ever called him by his first name. Rossi sometimes does, to emphasize a point, Strauss to give off the vibe of friendliness. And while he has called her _Emily_ a few times now, hearing her say _Aaron_ is startling enough.

"I must've drifted off somewhere, sorry. What were you saying?"

"I asked what Beth does for a living and you kind of drifted off there."

"She works at an art gallery as a curator."

"And how's Jack doing at school? I remember something about a classmate who was bullying him and whom he tried to befriend in retaliation."

"His teacher said he's doing better now and the bully has become somewhat of a friend now; or at least he doesn't pick on Jack any more."

"That's good."

The tension of before slowly seeps back into their conversation because that's all they're doing. It's not two friends talking, rather the kind of polite small talk people make when they have nothing to say. He doesn't know how to break through this when she's all of a sudden become closed off and he yearns for a different kind of Emily, the one who sat on his couch and trusted him so very much. For that, he tries to change the subject.

"What about you? How is your relationship with your mother going?"

To his surprise and delight, she gives a small laugh and looks away, as if remembering something amusing.

"Well, now that you ask...I don't think I told you then but after I came back from the dead, my mother gave me a welcome-back-party with all of her friends. And it wasn't half-bad, actually. Now we exist in this twilight world – one moment it's all good and she's even a doting mother and the next time she's ambassador Prentiss again."

"But it's better?"

"It's never been exactly bad, Hotch."

He doesn't understand that comment but doesn't say anything when he sees her searching for the words to explain the complexities of Elizabeth Prentiss.

"When I was a child, we traveled a lot and, as you know, I've lived on almost every continent. I had a very interesting childhood and I don't resent my mother for doing what she did but...it's never been easy for her to just be a mother. Most of the time she's been a diplomat or an ambassador and she's always been so busy with everything other than me. So she never was a bad mother, she just wasn't there to be a mother sometimes."

Hotch remembers the first time he met the woman and understands what she doesn't say – or doesn't know to say – of how it's difficult because she is so much like her mother. Emily has more softness and is more welcoming in her demeanor but the similarities in their personality astound him. So, in a way, he understands why it's never been bad but never been easy as well.

But she's not finished; he feels as though she's compelled to tell this story for once, to explain her mother because she doesn't want Hotch to think anything bad about the ambassador; and he never would.

"When I was 14 or 15, after we had had a decent row, I remember I asked my father how he could stand being married to her when, to me, she was the most difficult woman. It wasn't easy for my father as well, I understood that much. And he just gave me this look, the way only people who've lived a life can look and said _But, Emmy, dear, how could I not love her? _I didn't understand it then but now...now, I can see it."

Hotch is surprised how much she can change in a matter of minutes. It seems as if she was just aloof and closed off from him and now she's talking about her childhood, about her parents, about the father he's never met and his curiosity gets the best of him, for once.

"What does your father do?"

"He was an art historian so our trips and constant moving around was actually fitting for him as well. My mother did her thing and he did his and they were both happy with that. But now he's somewhat retired, doesn't teach any more like he used to, edits books mostly."

"He sounds like an interesting man."

"Yes, that he is. I think you would get along really well."

There is no implication behind it – why would there be? – but Hotch can't help but feel a jolt of delight at her words. To meet Emily's parents. There it goes again, the reason he has maintained his distance with her; the more they talk, the more dangerous it gets. And, suddenly, he feels the need to leave her, to escape this warmth she offers because it signals things he is not ready for.

So he escapes. "I, uh, should actually get going now. I promised Jack I wouldn't stay out too long." He hides behind his son who asked for no such promise but he's not brave enough to let this thing between him and Emily come to a natural conclusion; whatever is natural between them is also very dangerous and is better left untouched.

* * *

**A/N: Since nothing has been mentioned of Beth's occupation or Emily's father, I made those things up. I hope you're still interested enough to leave me a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Thank you for still keeping up with the story. I'm hoping to wrap this up in no more than ten chapters in total, and hopefully even less. With that in mind, I will not dwell too much on Emily's life before Ian Doyle and rather focus on his case, also trying to bring in the H/P dynamic. Enjoy!

* * *

_The heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good; and thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burdens of the past._ (Gabriel García Márquez)

* * *

They have been talking for a while about her general well-being and bits and pieces of her childhood when Dr. Mallory inquires what made Emily choose her career in law enforcement.

"I didn't exactly choose it. I was studying at Yale when I was approached by Interpol, probably for my language skills and political background. And it just seemed like the perfect opportunity to make a difference in a way my mother did but I abhor politics, so I needed a different outlet."

"And did it pan out the way you hoped it would?"

Memories of Lauren rise up, unbidden in Emily's head and it seems like the hardest question she's ever had to contemplate. "I...I'm not sure. I did things for reasons of national security and international security and yet, I feel like I made a mistake."

"Why?"

And this is it; this is Ian Doyle being brought up and while she would love to keep ignoring it, she knows she can't hide from the very reason which made her come into therapy.

"When I was a relatively young agent, I was offered the operation of everyone's dreams; the chance to really go undercover and catch someone who was dangerous on all accounts." She still can't bring herself to say his name out loud.

"I became someone else and I did things...things I should never have done, things that made me, _make_ me a terrible person. But I'm sure you already read all about it."

Dr. Mallory smiles and looks at her, a hint of reproach in her eyes but kindness surrounding that. "I've always found files and paperwork to be so very impersonal, Emily. If I could merely read up on it, and be able to explain it, you wouldn't be here and I wouldn't have a job. I'm not looking for a report. Just tell me what you think is important."

So much for deflecting the issue. Instead, she braces herself and trudges forward, determined to say the things she always thinks but never confesses to anyone.

"I was his lover. I shared his bed and I did it willingly because it needed to be done, because I needed to sacrifice myself for the good of the investigation." The words sound so absurd to her own ears that she can't suppress the wry chuckle which forces its way out.

"The good of the investigation. International security." She repeats the words in a mocking tone, feeling a sharp pain tear through her at that. "I sold my body to him, _for the sake of the country_, and I lost so much."

"Why does that make you a terrible person?"

The doctor's quiet voice penetrates the pain and anger and shame which has been building up in Emily and all she can do is look at her in disbelief. _Why?_ "Isn't it obvious?"

"I would like you to explain it, Emily."

And now she just feels angry. "Explain it? Let me see. I became nothing more than a means to an end for the agency which sent me out into the field and let me do as I pleased. I was involved with a known terrorist who killed people and then came to bed with me and I let him hold me, touch me, _love me_! I did it for some ill-conceived notion of the greater good, like a prostitute who believes herself to be a great martyr while inevitably betraying everyone. I let everyone down."

"Who's _everyone_?"

"My team, mostly. Both my teams, in the end."

She has never said it out loud but now, she suddenly understands, has a new perspective on her reluctance not to tell Hotch and the team about Ian Doyle and on leaving Interpol. She let them down.

"Do you think what you did is unforgivable? And nothing good came out of it?"

"They caught him, didn't they?"

"And yet you feel your team blames you for what you did."

"Well, yes." But the moment she says it, Emily feels the lack of conviction behind her words. "No, I mean..._no_."

They were upset about her faked death and her resurrection, about being kept in the dark over Ian Doyle and her going off on her own. But they've never blamed her for what she had to do as Lauren Reynolds. She's never caught the tiniest glimpse of disapproval or shame or indignation at their part; it's all been her own doing, her own reluctance to forget.

This epiphany catches her by surprise and she feels her world being turned upside down. It's not about them, it's never been about that. Her actions are unforgivable only to herself.

"What I did...I haven't forgiven myself for. And when they've tried to help, I've only pushed them further away, away to keep them safe."

"They have to accept it on their own, Emily, and you seem to understand they have. What we can do, is help you move on and forgive yourself. Do you think you can do that?"

"I have to try, or it was all in vain."

"What about the people who sent you there in the first place?"

"The Interpol?"

She's never considered her employer to be the one at fault but now that she's said it, it seems the most obvious solution. How could they have let her do what she did? How could they step aside and watch her lose her innocence, her youthfulness?

"How did you feel about the agency after that mission?"

"Everybody told me I'd accomplished so much, gotten where no agent before had been able to reach." And all the while, she wanted to scream at them, wanted to ask what good had it been what she'd done, how should she have reconciled her mission's worth with the feelings raging inside.

"It was so much and I thought it was good. I told the psychologist I felt proud for what I'd accomplished and I lied. Because I felt...unforgivable."

"And so you left."

She nods, thoughtfully. After completing her first big mission, she just couldn't keep lying to herself, not while she was with Interpol, so she transferred to the FBI, working in the quiet Midwest, without the possibility of grand undercover operations.

"I haven't thought of it like this before but...I waited almost ten years before I applied for a position at the BAU. It was easier to force my feelings down when I was doing regular federal investigations and not dealing with monsters on a daily basis. And yet...I don't regret going there. I needed to go there."

"Why?"

"It's helped me, without me trying to. I've been catching killers for years and each and every one of them has been a surrogate for Ian Doyle. A revenge for what he did to me, for what I let him do." It's a truth she's never said before. She's been atoning herself for years, without meaning to.

And Emily feels the start of something she hadn't been looking for, feels the brokenness she has never explored being healed just the tiniest bit.

* * *

The next week, she's there right on time, anxiously awaiting. She's been thinking about the last session, has been turning it around in her head and feels ready to talk about the aftermath of Ian Doyle. Before she started therapy, she hadn't realized how much resentment she still carried from her days as Lauren Reynolds but now she sees; to talk about what Doyle's hunt did to her, she had to talk about what being with him did to her.

She hasn't talked to Hotch after the last session; the team has been dealing with two serial killers in a row, traveling to Minnesota and then Texas, so there hasn't been time for quiet conversations. Officially on leave since after the first session, she understands the necessity of stepping away and observing from a distance now.

"Hi, Emily, come in."

Dr. Mallory is also on time, as welcoming as always and they settle in the comfortable chairs, everything having become so familiar in the span of a few meetings.

"So, what do you want to talk about today?"

"Let's talk about Ian Doyle some more."

The name doesn't sound so intimidating on her lips anymore and Emily knows the doctor notices it with a small arch of her eyebrow and a quick smile.

"Alright. Did you think about what we discussed last week?"

She knows what she wants to say, has had time to think about it for seven days, to turn it over in her head and compile a story of some sort.

"I really thought I was done with him before he escaped and started calling me, sending me flowers, reminding me of the things I've done. But I guess burying something deep inside doesn't really make it better."

"What does, then?"

"I have to forgive myself for what I did and I think I can. But...I still sometimes dream about him, dream about the things he told me he would do."

"What kind of things, Emily?"

Now she takes a deep breath. She vividly remembers his words from when they met, his threat which he cast over her team, over her family.

"_Tell me, does the lovely Penelope know the truth about you? Or is she too busy watching movies with Derek to care? Here you are, all alone, while Aaron sits at home with his son. And why didn't Dave and Ashley invite you to their game night? Maybe they thought you'd be on the Metro with Dr. Reid."_

"That he'll hurt the people I care about because he can. That I arrive too late, just a fraction too late to stop him."

Penelope's lifeless eyes, and Morgan's, having been caught by surprise while watching movies. Dave's mangled body, lying on his kitchen floor. Reid's broken bones, having been thrown in front of the approaching train. And Jack, never getting the chance to grow up and Hotch, having died trying to protect his son from another monster, this time of her doing. The last image squeezes at her heart the most, whispers of broken promises and unspoken thoughts.

"The things nightmares are made of."

Dr. Mallory nods and writes something down and Emily gets the feeling it's something she didn't say but rather which got away from her and revealed too much of the things she doesn't talk about. She alters the course of the conversation, not wanting to discuss any more of her dreams.

"And then there's the time I was dead. I remember the beginning of it, when I was in Paris, alone, away from everyone and I thought I was never going to get back because catching Ian Doyle didn't seem plausible. I had every confidence in my team to catch him but deep down I thought I was going to stay alone forever."

"Three months is a long time to think like that."

"But it could've just as easily been forever."

"And now that you're back?"

Emily contemplates the best answer to that question, something she's been struggling with for the past year. This is the most obvious answer to why she wants to leave the BAU, why she feels the need to get away but at the same time, there is nothing obvious about her reasons.

"I'm back but a part of me is still there, still in Europe, running and never stopping to rest, in fear of losing precious time. And, because of that, I'm not who I was before. I need something different, something more."

"Something you lost?"

"Something I never had."

That sentence escapes on its own volition and it is too close to voicing the forbidden thoughts in her head. She almost clamps her hand against her mouth but forces the instinctive reaction down, not wanting for Dr. Mallory to catch on to this tidbit of information.

"And what's that?"

So much for fooling the psychologist.

"I've never been prone to social situations, never needed people to make me feel good. I love solitude, being on my own, not sharing myself with anyone. But since I came back, I can't seem to force down this...this urge to share, this need to be with someone, to enjoy being around him, feel the comfort he could bring."

"He?" Now the arched eyebrow is more pronounced and Emily's definitely let too much slip, has let abstract notions turn into real ones. This is definitely not what she wanted to happen.

"Uh, well, you know. An abstract figure of a man?" The end of her sentence turns into a question without her meaning to and she just keeps playing into the doctor's hands.

"Are you sure it's abstract, Emily?"

_Oh, to hell with it._

"No." Her tone is a bit resigned but she finds it in herself to trust this compassionate woman, to voice the something which has been with her for a lengthy period of time. "It's not abstract but it's complicated."

"Why do you think that?"

"It's...he's a friend, a good friend and he doesn't want anything else. And there are rules we can't break."

"Which kinds of rules? Self-imposed? By you or him?"

"Rules as in an actual rulebook I must follow at work."

"I see."

Emily hasn't said out the actual words yet, wants to keep delivering these half-truths, these bits which can't confirm anything about the identity of this man but she knows the doctor isn't blind or short-sighted. A rulebook she must follow at work? She could've just said _I'm in love with my boss_ and be done with it.

That thought brings a flash of hotness coursing through her. She's in love with him? She's never told herself that, always being very careful not to label her feelings or even examine them more closely. For a profiler who should know better, she is really good at deceiving herself.

"Emily, we don't have to talk about anything you're not comfortable with discussing. You control the flow; I'm not forcing you to do anything." Dr. Mallory must have sensed her unease and slight panic, so she gives her a way out.

And yet, she doesn't take it. "Inter-office relationships are a bad idea; they always end in heartache. I almost destroyed a friendship once because it became something more and then, something strained." She thinks of Clyde Easter and how it killed him when she just left, no promises, not even the hint of an apology or confession. She couldn't do that to Hotch which is why she's kept her distance.

"Are you afraid it might end badly?"

"Well, yes..."

"Or are you afraid it might never end?"

And there's the rub. Suddenly and unexpectedly she sees it, them, in a very different light. The idea of commitment terrifies her, the idea of giving her all to someone else, makes her want to run as far away as possible. It's not a question of what he feels or whether he even feels something because she can't change that; it's a question of how she doesn't feel adequate.

"What if I can't give him what he deserves? I'll just end up hurting him and breaking what we have in the process. Is it really worth the risk?"

"I don't know, Emily. Do you want to stay at this limbo, never finding out because it might not work out or are you willing to risk it maybe being something you've been looking for?"

She's never been a risk-taker. She's calm and controlled, trying to rationalize her moves not because she doesn't feel emotions or have impulsive desires but because she feels more than others, because she's grown to take into account the consequences. She hates the unknown, the point where everything hangs at a balance and could end in her favor or against it. Her friendship, relationship, the whatever she has with Hotch is the biggest unknown in her life which she doesn't touch because she's never been able to accurately calculate the risk in that.

"He's in a relationship with someone else. What if I've misinterpreted his feelings towards me?"

"What if you haven't? All the _what ifs_ in this world won't change the situation either way."

This is one answer she needs, more than all the rest, as she suddenly realizes.

* * *

**A/N:** Phew. I swear, it was supposed to be only about Ian Doyle but it got away from me and became a bit romantic in the end. I hope it doesn't disappoint you and manages to still captivate you.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I apologize for the long wait. I wasn't feeling the characters all that much, so I kept waiting for it to change for the better and I really hope this chapter is convincing in that regard. The story will become a bit AU from now, since the events of the new season will not coincide with my plans, although I plan not to digress from canon too much.

* * *

_Your memory is a monster; you forget - it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you - and summons them to your recall with a will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you._ (John Irving)

* * *

Emily stares at the phone as if willing it to call Dr. Mallory by itself. Despite being on leave from the FBI, Hotch has called her in; JJ is out of town on a much deserved vacation with Will and Henry and he could use another profiler for a new case in Utah. It's a long way from Virginia and Emily is certain she won't make it back in two days but the idea of canceling her session is bothering her still. And yet, she feels the need to work on this case.

The phone rings then, making her jump in her seat and the caller ID surprises her.

"Dr. Mal-Helen. I was just thinking about calling you."

"Emily, hi. Look, I am really sorry for calling like this out of the blue but the Pentagon is requesting my immediate presence for a situation and I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel our session this week. I realize this may not be the best time and I hate to do this to you but do you think it's possible we don't meet?"

She wants to laugh and even does so; the universe is apparently playing into her hands. "No, that's fine. I was actually about to call myself to say a serial killer is going to interfere with our schedule, so this works out perfectly for both of us."

Dr. Mallory chuckles at the other end of the line. "Indeed it does. I will see you next week then? If you have any questions or if you need anything, you can always call me."

"Absolutely."

Later, when she is sitting on a plane with the team, on their way to Orem, Utah, it feels like she remembers. They hash out the case, make observations, exchange information and for a moment she doesn't understand why she would ever want to leave any of it. She enjoys Reid's encyclopedic knowledge, Morgan's astute observations, Rossi's calm and collected manner, Garcia's flirtatious remarks and Hotch's watchful eye. It feels like home.

The local sheriff meets with them at the airport; another body has been found and Hotch instructs her and Rossi to go to the scene.

"I must tell you, this guy is really something. Three dead girls and now he decides to change the rules and add a little something to his already existing craziness." The sheriff is walking them towards the alley where the last victim has been found just an hour ago.

"What do you mean by that?"

"We already know he's killing all these girls from the navy blue rope and the way they're all raped and strangled. But now...you have to see it to believe it."

He removes the cloth covering the body and the queasy feeling which hits Emily instantaneously has nothing to do with the sight of a naked, tied up blonde woman; she's seen worse. What none of them knew about the case is the way the killer's decided to make his presence known. On the victim's lower abdomen is a burn mark spelling _Mine_.

"Just goes to show there is no limit to these sickos."

"Do you have an ID of the victim?" She holds herself together and pushes through the shock but is very aware of Rossi's watchful gaze on her, him no doubt having put together the pieces and ready to order her to stay back.

"Andrea Messinger, 27, local girl. Been missing for the past three days, just like the others. A passer-by found her this morning; the M.E.'s preliminary report indicates she's been dead for 8-10 hours."

He continues talking but Emily keeps staring at the burn mark, feeling like she's being pulled towards it. She fights the urge to touch her own mark, scarred between her breasts and instead tries to focus on the conversation, not willing to give any indication how this is affecting her.

"Emily, are you alright?" She blinks and realizes the sheriff has walked away from them and Rossi is looking at her like he knows; she is reminded that he does know.  
"No, I mean, yes, I'm fine. Just...a memory. But I'm fine."

He doesn't look thoroughly convinced and Emily puts in the best effort to lie to a profiler; takes one to fool another.

"Really. I know where you're coming from but I'm fine. I just want to find out who it is killing these women and why. So, to the station?"

"If you say so. But if you need anything..."

She smiles, knowing there is no escaping what will follow. "Thanks, Dave. I'll keep that in mind."

Back at the station where they've set up command, they share the new victim with the rest and Emily fears the moment Rossi says the words she wishes she could just ignore.

"There's been a change in his M.O. He's now branding them with the word _Mine_."

The picture is on the desk now and she can feel Morgan and Reid looking at her, no doubt thinking the same thing Rossi already tried.

"I think this suggests a personal connection between the unsub and the victims. I know we haven't been able to find a connection between the victims yet, so maybe it isn't anything to do with their physical characteristics but rather someone from their past, someone who feels abandoned by them?"

She stays a profiler, unperturbed by the tense silence which has fallen upon the room. She doesn't want to be asked if she's alright or to be suggested she go home.

And somehow they understand or at least play along with her. Morgan calls Garcia to find out about complaints of harassment, restraining orders; Reid studies the word, deducing the weapon used to create the mark and identifying the font; Rossi studies the way the victims' hands have been tied. Only Hotch doesn't do anything, doesn't say anything but looks at her in that way of his, like he knows exactly what she wants to say but won't. And she is determined to let them all know she really is fine because she feels fine.

It's not until she's alone in her hotel room that she allows her mind to return to the crime scene, return to the word. Her own mark feels uncomfortable, pulling at the edges like it hasn't done in awhile. She takes off her shirt and looks at it in the mirror, a luxury she has as she's the only one who doesn't have to share a room.

The clover leaf is stuck between her breasts, branding her forever as property of Ian Doyle. The thought shakes her; she thought she had put him and everything associated with him behind her but this reminder will never go away.

Emily's done as much as she could to make it disappear but even when she can hide it thanks to good medical care and a very expensive concealer, she will always know it is there, reminding her of her past. It's Doyle's way of saying she'll never get rid of him completely, no matter how many hours she spends with a therapist or how much she atones her past actions.

There's a knock on her door and she considers not answering but knows the person on the other side will have seen the light under her door. She hastily buttons up her shirt again, knowing it's probably Morgan who worries too much and who is the one willing to barge into her hotel room and pester her into admitting she isn't fine – and she _is_.

"Look, Derek, I-" Her tirade is cut short when she realizes she's looking at Hotch, and not Morgan.

"Not Morgan." He smiles a bit but the surprise is still catching up with her so she stays quiet. "So, am I allowed to come in then?"

And Emily relents, opening the door wider as Hotch steps in. He's taken off his jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, looking less like Agent Hotchner and more like Aaron which makes her just the tiniest bit uncomfortable. They haven't really talked unofficially since her last session because she hasn't yet decided which risk she is willing to take.

"Have you come to tell me to go home?" She's feeling testy and doesn't bother hiding it; if he's come this far, he can either take it or leave.

"Why would you be going home? I'm just here to ask if I can watch the game; Rossi refuses to relinquish the remote in favor of some classical movie he has been wanting to see."

Now she's at a loss for words. She's certain Rossi's not holding the remote hostage or even watching the television but she doesn't find it in herself to fight him when he catches her unguarded. "Fine. You watch the TV, I'll read."

They settle into their respective positions on the twin bed; she with her back against the headboard and him on the edge of the bed, intently watching the game. It feels almost domestic, them sharing a hotel room – _not really sharing_, she reminds herself – but she is not relaxing into it. The words she tries to make sense of are jumbled, the sensory overload being too much for her already compromised brain to handle. Him just sitting there is more unnerving than if he was to say something.

The silence is slowly getting to her, combined with having no one to talk to about this. She's even contemplated calling Dr. Mallory but she doesn't want to be one of those people who begin therapy and stop relying on themselves.

"Why are you really here, Hotch?" Emily's tired of fighting, tired of pretending and her voice must tell him as much because he turns to her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Why not, Emily?"

It's a flash of something unexpected, her name from him, no evasion, no pretense and for some reason it irks her more than anything else he could've said. "Because I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me or the case and I don't understand why everyone's acting like I don't know what I'm doing!"

"You know that's not what Dave, Morgan and Reid are doing. They're trying to be your friends."

"And you?" It doesn't escape her notice that he's left himself out of the sentence.

"I'm worried too. But I'm not going to force you to talk if you don't want to. What do you want, Prentiss?"

The wording reminds her of her sessions and she feels angry at the thought Hotch would use the knowledge of her therapy against her, so she refuses to let down her guard.

"I want everybody to stop treating me like I'm going to fall apart any moment now, like I couldn't possibly be ready to deal with this case the way you are. Just stop evading the reason you are so careful all of a sudden."

His eyes flash with something she doesn't want to understand as he clenches his jaw. "Fine. Did the sight of Andrea Messinger make you think about Doyle and your own scar?"

He's giving her exactly what she wants and she takes it. "Yes. But I'm not upset, I don't think about it anymore. It's only natural for me to associate seeing that brand with my own but it's just a stupid coincidence, meaning nothing. I am not a victim."

Just when she says it, she feels a wave of anxiety and sorrow and hurt flow through her, like a dam has been broken but she has a point to prove, not give in to this feeling. "I'm fine. Why can't you just believe me?"

"Maybe it's not about _you _being fine. Maybe your friends who care about you are reminded of Ian Doyle, maybe they have the right to be upset, even if you're not?"

She sees the point he's making but refuses to budge, refuses to break down when he is right there, when her head is reeling and her heart is not doing any better. He cracks open her exterior with a few words here and there and suddenly, her world tilts on its axis and changes everything. It doesn't mean she's going to tell him everything all of a sudden; if anything, it makes her push him away, back to the black and white of their relationship, away from all the gray areas.

"I should go to bed, I'm tired."

He gives her an admonishing look but relents, even if it makes him angry with her. "We reconvene at nine. Good night."

He leaves and when the door closes behind him, she breathes for what feels like the first time and tries to let go of her accumulated anxiety. But the knot in her stomach won't dissolve itself; if anything, it tightens more.

She hides for the next four days in her mind, determined not to show Hotch any sign of what she considers weakness. Their discourse is professional, neither giving any indication of the conversation that took place in her room and the team doesn't seem to notice anything off. One victim later, they apprehend the unsub who turns out to be a man every victim had a one-night stand and then refused to further the relationship with. In retaliation, he took what he wanted and made sure everyone knew they were his.

Emily doesn't talk to Hotch on the plane or after they leave for their respective homes. JJ has returned and Emily is still on leave, so she tells Rossi, Morgan and Reid just that and jokes about the time off giving her the chance to take up knitting.

The fight with Hotch feels like a step back from where they've come and the prospect of losing a friendship which was already on fragile grounds, feels like a lead weight but Emily doesn't know how to go back without admitting everything she's been thinking. So she settles for waiting for Wednesday, knowing she can talk about the last remaining mark of Ian Doyle with Dr. Mallory and maybe then find a way to make right the wrongs she willingly caused.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, it can't all be easy, can it? I honestly didn't mean for them to end up like this but they really wanted to fight and not support each other, so I hope it doesn't disappoint you. It can only get better.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Oh. I don't think any apology will cut it; I've left this fic hanging for months and I know and I'm sorry. I just felt so very uninspired because Paget Brewster doesn't fill my screen every Wednesday and I wasn't sure where Emily was going to go from the last chapter. This is precisely why I never write multi-chapters because I'm so utterly unreliable when it comes to them. I do hope to finish this, just have some patience, if there's still someone reading this at all.

* * *

_The goal of spiritual practice is full recovery, and the only thing you need to recover from is a fractured sense of self. (_Marianne Williamson)

* * *

Emily's nervous, reminiscent of her first meeting with Dr. Mallory. Her thoughts are jumbled inside her head and she feels a lack of direction. So much has happened, so much has been said and done that she isn't sure where to begin.

"Emily? Are you alright?"

Dr. Mallory's voice breaks her out of her reverie and she smiles nervously. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, what was the question?"

"I asked how your week has been since we haven't seen each other in a while and we missed the last session. You had a case to be solved, right?"

She nods but the mere thought of those girls in Utah fills her mind with pictures of their bodies, branded with that horrible word, victimized in a way they never should have been.

There is no point in lying to Dr. Mallory – and Emily doesn't really want to because it would defeat the purpose – but she has no idea how to start this conversation, how to talk about the things that need to be said. So she decides to start with something ambiguous and work her way up from there.

"Yes, we had a case. And we solved it but...something happened."

She falls silent because the words fail to find her. She feels the doctor's gaze upon her but it's not forceful, more watchful and patiently waiting, encouraging.

"Something with the case?"

"Yes." After a beat of silence, she continues. "And no. I don't know how to explain it."

"Then don't analyze and explain it, Emily. Just talk to me, like you would recount a story. Don't think about the words you're saying but the emotions you're feeling and just let it go."

She looks at the doctor and, finding courage in the warmth in her eyes, lets her mind fill with thoughts and memories and the words flow out of ther.

"He was killing girls, making them his own and not just by taking their lives but he had to show everyone else how they belonged to him. Death wasn't enough; he had to brand them, mark them as his, so no one would question his motives and everyone could know that they were off-limits, that they belonged, that their identity was with him. It was a simple word, just _Mine_ and if he hadn't killed them, they would've had to carry it on their skin forever, a reminder of everything that had been taken from them."

She falls silent as the jumble of thoughts slows down in her head and something settles into place, something dark and heavy mingling with the knot she's been carrying for over a year.

"And I...there is a marking on me, compliments of Ian Doyle. He made sure I was his, made sure I could never forget this part of my life."

"And did that affect your behavior on the case?"

"I thought it wouldn't. It was a case, these girls were not me and there was no reason to take it personally. And I failed my first and foremost obligation as a profiler – never be emotionally involved with the case. The moment that happens, you become a liability to your team, you compromise your integrity and you can't remain objective and there is a chance you'll let your emotions cloud the facts."

"And did you step back?"

She's ashamed of this part because now, she understands how unfair she was to her team, to her friends in her insistence. "No. I told them I was fine."

"Did your team ask you to step back?"

Emily wants to say _yes_ but then she replays the case in her head and realizes that they hadn't. Not one of them told her to go home.

"I...no." She meets Dr. Mallory's eyes and finds only understanding and compassion and this urges her to go on.

"They didn't tell me to do anything but I thought they would." In a flash of almost painful clarity Emily realizes that in her efforts to convince the team of how fine she was, she wasn't really listening to what they were saying.

"Why do you think they didn't tell you to leave?"

"They know I can handle myself. They know I'm capable of leaving my own emotions behind and approach things with a rational head."

"Leave your emotions behind or push them down?"

It feels like a trick question but it makes sense. She's good at both of those things and she's had a lot of practice with both. She knows which one is the better option but also knows which one she went for.

"I was so afraid of their reaction that I pushed everything down and now it's catching up with me. I thought I was handling it but I was avoiding it instead."

It's a harsh truth but it's a truth that sets her free once she's said it out loud. She wasn't fine and she repeats that realization out loud.

"I wasn't fine. I'm not fine."

Dr. Mallory nods and writes something down. "Then what are you?"

"I'm...I'm getting there. I want to be better. I don't know if I'll ever be truly over it but I can be fine in spite of what happened."

It's something reminiscent of their first meeting, Emily thinks, when she said out loud that she wanted to be okay with what happened to her. It will take more than sessions and memories to be better but this acknowledgment feels like a step forward.

The clover leaf, though, burns as a reminder.

"Do you know what Ian Doyle burned on my skin?"

"No. Do you want to tell me?"

Emily takes a deep breath and the answer releases on the exhale. "A clover leaf."

"Does it symbolize something?"

She shrugs. "Ireland. He was very proud of his heritage and I guess he wanted me to be a part of that. Maybe it was just handy. It wasn't about what he was branding me with, more the act itself. It's his signature. He claimed me."

Her hand involuntarily rises to the mark and for the first time since she's been in this office, lets it fall on it. She can't really feel it through her shirt but knows exactly where it is.

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes I wake at night because I can feel it pulling at the edges. It's not pain, exactly. I just...feel it. I know that it's there."

It sounds absurd and she feels a bit silly saying it because of course it's there; where else would it be?

"That is perfectly normal, Emily. It wasn't a part of your body before but it's there now and it's normal to feel detached from it, especially given the circumstances surrounding it."

"It will never go away, will it?"

"Do you want it to?"

It would seem like an incredulous question if Emily didn't understand psychology so well. She may want it to but she can't turn back time, can't change what's happened. She can only accept it, let it fade away, not let it guide her actions.

"I want to but it won't. And it may take some time but I think I will be fine with that."

"How do you feel about someone seeing it?"

"Not too great, obviously. I can conceal it, at least most of it but I don't want to have to explain its origins to anyone. And yet, I probably can't stop that from happening either."

"I'll suggest something, Emily, and just hear me out before you say _no_ because that will be your first instinct."

She's curious and slightly hesitant but nods carefully.

"Show it to someone."

She feels herself physically pull back from the doctor but at her warning look doesn't intervene with objections.

"It doesn't have to be in a romantic context; in fact, I would advise against that. And you don't want to explain it to a stranger, so I would recommend someone who knows you, who knows just a fraction of what happened to you."

"But why?" The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them but Dr. Mallory only gives her a hint of a smile.

"I want you to see that from someone else's point of view. To see yourself through someone else's eyes, take that emotion and let it flow through you. Just ask them to take a look and talk themselves through it. It won't be easy, for you or for them, so I caution you to choose carefully who you show it to. I know it seems scary and daunting and you don't _have_ to do this, at least not right away, but think about it."

Emily takes the advice in and slowly lets the words sink in._ Show someone._ It's one thing to reach a level of emotional awareness and preparedness to deal with it but to share it with someone else is something she wasn't even considering. But she should've been expecting something along the lines; it is cognitive behavior therapy, after all, and homework is part of the process.

"I'll think about it. But...no promises?"

Dr. Mallory smiles. "It's a deal."

* * *

It's with a lot of hesitance and apprehension that Emily stands behind an apartment door three days later, hand poised to knock. She's had time to turn Dr. Mallory's suggestion around in her head and the more she thinks of it, the more it makes sense. She doesn't necessarily agree with it or even like it but she knows it has to be done if she wants to be better.

She knocks; she's expected so the door opens a few moments later.

"Emily, hi."

She looks into the expectant and radiant face of JJ and feels a sense of calm. She can do this.

They make small talk as JJ prepares some tea and Emily briefly wonders if she did the right thing by coming to her. There's really only two people who have a full understanding of what Ian Doyle was and what he did to her and she would never go to Hotch with this. For a moment of absolute insanity, she contemplated his apartment but the thought of showing him this vulnerability, this weakness made nausea well up inside. There's too much tangled up between her and Hotch to ask this of him, so JJ is the safer choice.

They drink the tea in silence but Emily feels JJ's inquisitive gaze and knows that the profiler in her is trying to discern the reason behind this visit. They're friends but Emily's nervousness must be radiating off her in waves.

"I have something I need to do, JJ, and I need your help with that."

"Sure, Emily, whatever you need."

"I...I've been going to therapy to deal with everything that's happened."

"That's good."

"Yeah. It's really been helping but now I have to do something and you're the only one I could ask this of. I know it's a bit strange but hear me out."

JJ's gaze is more pointed now but she doesn't interfere and Emily can continue. "You know about the mark that Doyle left, right?"

She nods slowly, still not completely understanding where this is going – and how could she? It's a peculiar thing to ask, even from a friend, _especially_ from a friend, but Emily's determined to go through with this.

She takes a deep breath and, looking straight at JJ, the words stumble out. "I want to ask you to look at my scar and just talk me through your emotions, say what comes to mind or ask questions."

To her credit, JJ doesn't blanch, her expression doesn't even waver but remains open and warm. "Okay."

"Okay? Just like that? You're not going to ask anything?"

JJ smiles softly. "I've been to therapy, Emily. If that's something you need to do, then I will do anything I can to help you through this."

The realization of what an amazing friend JJ really is, hits her and she feels completely relieved now.

"Okay then."

She stands and, taking a deep breath, starts unbuttoning her shirt. It only takes three top buttons before the clover leaf comes into sight and JJ's eyes don't leave it.

"It's bigger than I thought it would be. But it's healed nicely and I bet you can't really see it if you use that amazing concealer I know you bought for Christmas. Does it hurt?"

"No, not really. It just reminds itself once in a while."

"It is a reminder, Emily. A reminder that you fought for something, against something and you came out a winner. Maybe not unscathed but you won in the end. Ian Doyle couldn't beat you."

JJ's heartfelt words release an unfamiliar sensation in her; something on the verge of tears but partnered with strength, rising deep from within her. She hears her words, sees the truth in them and a realization unfolds: she is not a victim. She can rise above and she will.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm not totally sure about this chapter, I have to be honest. I hope my choice of JJ made sense because I'm pretty sure Emily's not ready for Hotch to see that; their unspoken feelings a huge factor in this. Please leave a review and I'll be forever thankful - and hopefully inspired to see this story to completion.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** And I made it, amazing, in such a short time. And to get this chapter to you as quickly as possible, it is a tad bit shorter than the previous ones, mainly because I had two important points here and it felt better to split them into two separate chapters.

Also, for this chapter** the POV is Dr. Mallory, or Helen,** because I thought I might offer you a bit of her insight.

Without further ado, here it is.

* * *

_Our lives improve only when we take chances and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves._ (Walter Anderson)

* * *

"I don't think I remember what it's like to feel like this."

"Like what, Emily?"

"Like I'm free."

Helen smiles and writes that down, feeling a distinctive but careful happiness at the words Emily is saying. She doesn't play favorites with her clients but she can't deny that sessions with Emily have been the most successful in a while.

And she is right; there is a certain freedom to her now, a visible difference in how she holds herself, no longer burdened by the heavy knowledge of the secrets she carried with herself for years. For someone who's been through a trauma of this extent, she has made an effort to be better, has taken an active role in her therapy and has helped her along.

"What do you think gave you this freedom?"

Emily takes a deep breath and while her gaze wanders, it doesn't hide, doesn't shy away from Helen; it is open and pensive.

"There was a lot I wasn't saying or even thinking about for years and I was completely used to feeling the way I did; it was the norm and I couldn't question it. But now...I know what it's like to feel different, I can almost remember a time before it was burdened with resentment. And I like it."

It's a good answer, she thinks, analytical and yet mindful of the fact that unburdening doesn't mean everything will magically go back to being the way it was. That makes people acquainted with psychology the easiest to guide out of therapy; they see it for what it is and know that its mere existence doesn't solve their problems. Helen thinks she should gently guide Emily towards a tangible future, towards something that has substance, meaning, that can be taken and kept.

"And how will this affect your life from now on?"

"I can't hide behind it any more. I need to make decisions, take on a course of action and not shy away from it. To get what I want."

"And what do you want, Emily?"

Most people are unable to answer that simple question, even after years of therapy. There is a significant gap between what people want and what they allow themselves to have and most of the time settling for what they can have won't satisfy them in the long run.

She's turned more pensive now, a slight frown marring her features but Helen doesn't worry, doesn't prod and doesn't push her. Emily has as much time as she needs and she grants it freely. She herself has deduced what it is that Emily probably wants but her allowing or denying herself that is what really makes the difference.

"I want to be happy. And I don't want to be alone anymore."

Helen narrowly suppresses the smile that threatens to break over her face because that would break the neutrality she is forced to hold.

"Define being alone."

Emily smirks, seeing through the gentle push and relents. "I have a family. I have friends, people that care for me, people that fill my days. But, ultimately, they can't give me the kind of company I'm looking for."

She pauses but Helen refuses to fill the silence; it is an effective technique when people want to answer questions and not speak themselves but they both know that.

"I want intimacy. I want someone to share my life with. Someone to come home to. Someone who cares enough to understand me."

That's a start and Helen quickly notes _Intimacy_ in her notebook.

"And I think I could have that person already."

Now that is a revelation she wasn't expecting. Letting go of her past and her scars has made Emily stronger but also freer and has possibly revealed the kind of a person she always could have been, someone who wouldn't suppress her needs but embrace them.

She gives Emily a long look and almost instantly knows who she is thinking of. But she will let this run its natural course, not even hint at what she suspects.

"Tell me about him."

"He's one of the bravest men I know. Dignified, respectable, honorable."

She pauses, as if realizing something she had never thought of.

"But. Those are the kinds of things he does, the things that relate to what we do."

Her slip of tongue is noticed by them both and Emily shrugs her shoulders as if in defeat and admits what they both already know. "I work for him."

"Alright. What do you mean by things that relate to what you do?"

"I mean, those are things inextricably bound with his job. But he's more than that. He's fair, he's empathetic, he's warm but nobody really sees that because what he does professionally comes first and foremost and it almost always shadows what he's like."

"And yet you are aware of those things as well."

"I guess."

Some thought plagues her once more and Helen gives her a small smile to encourage that. "Emily, don't be afraid of what you think. This is a safe place and everything you say here is right."

"It just sounds a bit silly when I think about it. I can tell you all these things about him and yet, I feel as if I don't really know him. I wonder if I know those other attributes of him solely by accident and whether I was really meant to see them at all. He's a very private person."

"So you see him but you're not sure if he's showing you these things?"

"The truth is, there is a lot I don't know about him."

"But you want to know him."

Now Emily's gaze shies away a bit and she hesitates. This may be more than she is willing to share, more than she is admitting to herself.

"It's complicated."

"How?"

Helen doesn't really have to ask; she can guess quite expertly what working for someone means, especially someone as dutiful as Emily makes the man sound and how it relates to a personal relationship. There are rules which have to be enforced, a certain code of conduct that man is definitely bound to and it makes Emily afraid that mere feelings aren't enough to break it.

"Well, fraternization rules. Personal issues. He's...had a complicated past in terms of relationships and he's actually in a relationship right now."

"And you wouldn't infringe on that, I presume?"

The subject makes Emily uncomfortable, she can see that but it is an important thing to consider, no matter the socially and morally inflicted guilt and shame upon that kind of a situation. Feelings don't always ask for the proper place and time.

"I've been in his life for years. A part of me thinks that if he wanted something, it would have happened."

"And another part?"

"Another part acknowledges that it's far more complicated than that. It's not like I've given him any real indication of my own...feelings. What if he doesn't know he should act on something?"

"Emily, all the _what if_s don't count. We've said this before."

"Well, what do you expect me to do? I can't just tell him I lo-" She stops herself at the last moment but the sentiment is almost out and Helen can see the panic on Emily's face. There are things she isn't willing to share, which is only natural and so, she backs up a little bit.

"What do you want, Emily? In this specific context."

This is the intimacy she was referring to, the part of her life she wants to fill but to cross the last obstacles to it, Emily has to be willing to risk something.

"I want a chance to be happy. But I'm not sure how to take it."

"I won't tell you what to do, as you know. But I will tell you to be careful about this. Don't rush into things just because you feel free right now. Let it settle, let it wrap around you, let it fill your entire being. And then come back to this issue."

She nods, thoughtfully. There is time.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, we are moving closer to the H/P relationship. I will try and not rush them but I will also try to rush the next chapter, since I'm fairly certain where I'm going to go with it. But do tell me what you thought of this one!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I think I've managed to catch a hold of my story, so there's hope for a somewhat swift finish. This is actually not quite the chapter I was going to write but I was re-reading the beginning and realized I was almost going to keep something unattended. So, here it is.

* * *

_It's not so much that we're afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it's that place in between that we fear. It's like being between trapezes. There's nothing to hold on to_. (Marilyn Ferguson)

* * *

"So, this is interesting." Clyde Easter looks a bit out of place, sitting in a quiet café in the middle of Washington D. C. He seems better in the middle of danger, taking action, doing something than staying put for more than a minute and Emily's a bit amused by the fact that she made him come here.

"You know, when you said we needed to talk, I wasn't aware you were coming to D.C. A phone call just wasn't enough?"

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Emily, eh?" He smirks but she shrugs the slightly flirtatious remark off with a smile of her own.

"Sure you did."

"How have you been?"

"On indefinite leave."

"And doing what, exactly?"

She pauses, thinking about how to phrase what exactly she's been doing. She isn't necessarily ashamed of needing therapy and she's certain Clyde wouldn't think less of her because of that but she isn't keen on being that vulnerable around him.

In the end, though, she opts for no misguided information, no vague answers but for the one thing she can give – the honest truth.

"I've been dealing with the aftermath of Ian Doyle."

Clyde doesn't need to be a profiler to understand what _dealing with_ stands for. "And how's that going for you?"

"Actually better than I imagined."

He nods. "That's good."

He doesn't need to say anything more and he doesn't want to coax any more information out of her; he's fully aware of all the things she might need therapy for and lets her have it.

"So you're not working with the BAU then?"

"Indefinite leave, Clyde."

"And have you forgotten what we talked about?"

She gives him an annoyed look. "Of course not. That's one of the reasons I've been trying to be regain myself. I told you it would take time."

"Yeah, well, that's the thing, Emily. We all would like time but you don't have it anymore." He leans a bit forward and fixes his gaze straight at her. "That offer isn't going to be open forever; in fact, it is closing by the minute."

She doesn't look away but he can see the slight irritation rising in her; she doesn't like to be pushed. "How soon?"

"I'm going to need an answer today. Do you think they would've let me fly here otherwise? I've convinced them that you're the best for this position. All you have to do is say the word."

"It's not that easy."

"Why not? You could have your own team, a new start, an amazing career. You're not a follower, Emily, you're a leader."

She doesn't say anything but he can feel the hesitation in her. When they'd last spoken, she had been hesitant but also a bit relieved and excited; now those things seem to be missing and he gets the feeling that Emily will turn down this opportunity. And for all his profiling skills, he doesn't understand why.

"It would be something completely different. I would have to leave Washington, leave the States."

"You've lived abroad before, Emily. What's keeping you here?"

"My whole life is here, Clyde. I can't just up and leave."

He gives her a thorough look. "No, that's not it. Is it..are you in a relationship and that's what is keeping you?"

Emily shoots him an incredulous look. "Really? A relationship is the only reason I could possibly want to stay here? I have a family. I have friends, people who care for me, people I can't just run away from when I feel like it."

She pauses for a second, as if startled by her own words, like she's had an epiphany. "I can't run away. I'm sorry but London's not for me, as much as that offer seems perfect."

"So you're going to stay at the BAU?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know, honestly. There are things I still need to work through but I can say that London is not the place I should go to. Thank you for the offer, Clyde, but you have to find someone else."

He stares at her for a moment, as if not comprehending. There are things she's not saying, he's sure of it but her conviction about not taking the job seems unwavering and he relents.

"Okay. See you around, then. Come visit me sometime."

* * *

Emily feels much more nervous seeing Hotch than she did telling Clyde she wasn't going to move to London. They haven't spoken since Utah, a little over two weeks ago, and she knows that there and then, she broke something. Their relationship has always been delicately balanced and now she can only hope there is some of it to be salvaged; she's come too far to admit defeat. And there are things he needs to know and she needs to tell him.

He sounded surprised when she called and narrowly managed to hide it beneath his usual detached manner. But they agreed to a meeting at a café and she sees him coming through the door, still in his suit, and feels the nervousness grow but breathes through it.

"Hi." She greets him with a smile.

"Prentiss." Despite the formal greeting, she notices that underneath the carefully crafted mask of neutrality lurks something more honest and emotional, as if he, too, is nervous about this meeting.

He sits down opposite her and a few moments pass between the waiter taking their orders – this time no wine but coffee – until they're alone at the table.

"How have you been, Prentiss?" He's being genial and perfectly nice but the use of her last name irks her a bit, especially since she knows that she has to be the one to break the ice.

"Better. I've had some setbacks but all in all, Helen has been very helpful."

Emily can tell by the brief flicker of surprise on Hotch's face that this was not what he was expecting and she feels a small surge of victory at the thought of having managed to surprise him.

"I'm glad to hear it." Some warmth creeps into his tone and his posture relaxes a bit; less of a superior, more of a friend.

"I'm sorry about Utah." She just says it, no intro, no hints and that manages to pull him completely out of his neutral expression.

"What do you mean?"

"You were right, all of you. I wasn't fine but I wanted to be so badly because I thought you would send me home otherwise. And I ended up being very irrational about it while I really should've stepped back and not be involved with the case. So, I'm sorry that I wasn't able to do that."

His expression softens and she sees the man beneath the special agent veneer. They don't usually talk like this, so openly and straightforward but ever since she was freed from the burdens of Ian Doyle, she feels like nothing can stop her.

"We've all had our lapses of judgment, Emily. The main things is that you're better now."

The first step has been taken, the first misunderstanding cleared. And him using her first name again is an excellent sign. She takes a sip of her coffee and decides to let him talk for a while.

"And how have you been? Any new cases?"

"We just got back from New York last night. It was a spree killer but fortunately for us, not a very smart one."

"New York? So you had the chance to see Beth then?"

She doesn't know why she says it but it's the first connection she makes in her head and almost blushes at the intrusion of his private life.

He freezes for a moment but then seems to come to some kind of a conclusion in his head. "No, actually. It ended a while back, before Utah."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Me here and her in New York just wasn't working out."

There are a million thoughts racing through her head now but she forces herself to focus on the ones that matter, knowing that this isn't the time she wants to be focusing on all the others.

The waiter comes to their table again and Hotch takes one look at her before ordering them wine. The fences have been mended and they're back on more friendly ground.

"I saw Clyde a few days ago."

"Here, in D.C.?"

She nods. "It seems that when you're offered to head your own team in London, they don't actually sit around and patiently wait for you to make a decision but they send in reinforcements."

"It's a great opportunity, Emily. You would make an excellent team leader." He says it a bit resignedly, as if he's already accounted for her leaving.

"It is. A new start in a new city, in a new country, with a somewhat new agency. London. You know, I've lived in a lot of different places all over the world but never in London. And a team of my own. Seems like a dream, doesn't it?"

He picks up the clue in her last sentence. "I'm sensing there's a _but_."

She smiles. "But. I wouldn't be doing it for the right reasons. I can't run away every time I face an obstacle, every time I think the past is burned behind me. I once left Interpol like that for the FBI; it would be quite a feat to do the opposite now."

She pauses, remembering what she told Clyde and what she stopped herself from telling him; they were words meant only for the man sitting opposite her, looking at her with a mixture of curiosity and hopefulness.

"I thought London would fix things but it can't do that. Only I can do that and I feel like I've been succeeding with Helen. To leave would be for the wrong reasons."

That coaxes a smile out of Hotch and she revels in having managed to do that. "And do you still want to leave the BAU?"

This is the hard part, the part she would rather not say but knows that she has to. "I think I have to do that. Otherwise, I can't really move forward and I'm afraid Utah will happen all over again."

Hotch nods and she sees the resignation on his face. He had already figured it out, probably from that first meeting they talked about her leaving. "I understand. I couldn't not come back after Foyet but you can't stay. And I'm glad you're not doing this for the wrong reasons. Do you know what you'll do instead?"

She shakes her head. "I think I'll leave it open-ended for a while before I get into anything. A vacation doesn't seem like a bad idea. But I'll definitely say a proper goodbye. No running away this time."

They both smile. The waiter brings the check and Hotch pays with a small warning look towards Emily when she tries to do it herself.

They take a walk through D. C. It's a beautiful summer night, the air humming from the warmth of the day, streetlamps casting a soft glow over the pavement. They're not saying anything but Emily can feel a slow, increasing tension between them and it vibrates, growing by the moment. She remembers Helen's words about not rushing into things but she hasn't been this free for a long time, has almost never contemplated acting a bit rushed and foolish. There's always been calculation involved when it comes to matters of the heart and she knows she has to tread extra carefully with this one.

Her apartment building comes into view quicker than she was expecting; it's a familiar sight but she feels like she'll be missing out on something if she doesn't take initiative and do something, anything. A word, a look, a hint. She searches through her head quickly but can't decide on whether to be straightforward about the things she wants to say or vague and give herself a way out.

They stop in front of it and she turns to look at Hotch. There's an uncertainty on his face as if he's trying to decide on something.

"Thank you for listening." She smiles softly and watches his features respond with an equal, easy smile, the kind she remembers only from a time before Foyet.

"Of course, Emily. We're friends."

"Right. Because we're not coworkers anymore."

"No, I guess we're not."

There's a beat of silence. "Emily." Her name fills the void and she looks up at him slowly.

There's a look on his face that she can't put her finger on and explain but the need for it quickly vanishes as she sees him leaning closer and feels her heartbeat accelerate. The thoughts racing through her head range from approving to frightened but she doesn't pull away and he lands a soft, barely there kiss on her cheek.

She doesn't close her eyes and sees something flickering in Hotch's eyes, an emotion she isn't familiar with but it captivates her and she doesn't have it in her to ask anything as he slowly pulls away.

"I'm glad you're not leaving."

* * *

**A/N: I would call that progress, wouldn't you?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** So, it's been awhile again, hasn't it. I was uncertain about the path Emily should take next but I finally saw it and I hope you'll enjoy it.

* * *

_The best day of your life is the one on which you decide your life is your own. No apologies or excuses. No one to lean on, rely on, or blame. The gift is yours - it is an amazing journey - and you alone are responsible for the quality of it. This is the day your life really begins._ (Bob Moaward)

* * *

By the time the next session with Helen arrives, Emily's made up her mind about what she will do next. Her mind is still reeling a bit from her revelatory last meeting with Hotch but she knows. She has made a decision.

"I think it is time for me to go."

Helen gives her a small smile and nods. "Do you think you are ready for it?"

"I think...I have to be ready for it. Otherwise I will stay here for every small thing and I can't continue doing that. I need to be on my own, I need to let go."

She smiles once more. "Yes, I think so too. Do you remember what you wanted when you first came here?"

Their first session flashes in Emily's mind, all of her words echoing back. "I wanted to be better than I was."

"And how do you think that's gone for you?"

She takes a moment to pause and reflect. That first time seems like a lifetime away, like someone else had sat here and asked for help and Emily doesn't know that person anymore. It is her and it isn't.

"I went back to so many things I've never considered, never even thought of because they hurt too much. I wanted to be better but I was so afraid of what might be that I was hiding all that time. All those years."

She pauses but Helen doesn't interfere, only listens intently, taking notes.

"At first, I wanted everything to go back, I wanted all the bad things not to have happened. I essentially wanted to turn back time but I couldn't do it and neither could you. I had to be better than what had happened."

"How did you do that?"

"Ian Doyle." The name doesn't scare her anymore, it doesn't cause pain or make her relive everything she went through for him, because of him. It's a name, an echo of a memory that she can move on from.

"What about Ian Doyle, Emily?"

Helen doesn't let her get away with remarks and words; she wants Emily to fight her way out, to leave it behind and stand on her own and she has the tools to do so.

"I thought he took my life from me, took away my freedom, everything I loved and that it could never be regained. But I was wrong. It wasn't taken."

"What did he do?"

She takes a deep breath and thinks of the feeling of being unburdened because she knows that the answer lies there.

"He changed me. He altered the course of my life and that is something I can't undo. But I've accepted it now. I became who I am today because of him, whether I like it or not. I might have been someone else if I had never met him, if I had never worked for the Interpol but that wouldn't be me."

"And who are you?"

"I'm Emily Prentiss. Special Agent Emily Prentiss of the FBI, formerly of the Interpol, formerly known as Lauren Reynolds. I know what it means to take a risk, I know what pain really feels like and I know what it feels like to die. But now I also know what it means to live. To overcome, to resolve, to understand. To resurrect."

Her hands are slightly trembling but there's a fierce gleam in her eyes and Helen doesn't stop her, only watches the transformation in front of her, watches their work be realized.

"Ian Doyle forged me in his destruction but he didn't make me. I made myself. And now I will live with myself and I won't let anything take it away from me."

"What else did you want, in the beginning?"

"I wanted to forget but the mark on me will never let me do that, not completely."

"How does that feel?"

She touches it tentatively through her shirt but it doesn't burn anymore; it doesn't even pull at the edges because it holds no power over her. It just is.

"It's there and I'll always see it, know it. But just like everything else he did to me, that mark will not define me. It tells me I survived it, tells me I came back and made something else of myself. And I will always know what happened but it won't control me. My life is my own."

"Yes, yes it is."

The fierceness awakened in Emily is not frightening but empowering; it is a woman taking control of her own life, moving on, away from the past and into the future, with her head held high and the knowledge of what happened keeping her moving forward.

* * *

A week later Emily sits in the familiar office once again and for the last time. It's her official last session and she feels a bit melancholy. These beige walls, the cream-colored sofa she's sat on so many times in the past weeks and the plum chair opposite feel like a second home. It's the safest place she's been at and it's all thanks to one woman. She smirks as she remembers her reluctance to come here and the instant feeling of security she felt, the way Helen could be welcoming and yet firm.

She exudes confidence and poise and while she remains detached, there's always been something innately trustworthy about her. Her blue eyes look at Emily intently as she starts their last session.

"Tell me about what's to come, Emily. Is there something to come?"

"I feel like I have my whole life ahead of me now. Like my eyes have been opened and I can see it all again. I've limited myself for so long that it seems like a dream world."

"Like you fear nothing?"

"Not entirely true."

She bites her lip as she contemplates what she could say and reveal at this very last meeting. That tender moment with Hotch is still playing in her head – they haven't spoken since it and the team's been on a case – but she feels like she should handle this on her own. But then she knows that she's already revealed so much to Helen that this one bit might very well be the very last.

"I have more courage than I did before but I'm not a completely different person. I still have doubts and I still worry, it just...doesn't seem so daunting anymore."

"What doesn't?"

"Living my life. I've spent decades worrying about what might be, what might happen and I won't just let go of it but I know what I must do."

She takes a moment to arrange her emotions into words and Helen doesn't intervene, only looks at her with that piercing gaze, saying nothing but seemingly already understanding everything.

"Something happened with me and him. Nothing rash or impulsive – I remembered what you told me – but it felt like progress, like I was finally seeing a meaning."

"Which was?"

"I'm not alone."

It's been eons since she's said that, since she's even thought that and it feels glorious. She's spent a lifetime convincing herself that she likes to be alone but the truth is twofold; she likes it but she also likes this beautiful new feeling of endless possibilities, of someone else sharing those with her.

"And what does that mean?"

"It means that my life can begin again. It means I can risk it and be afraid of it ending badly. But that's alright."

"Why?"

"Because I'm no longer afraid of it never ending."

She didn't come here for this but she understands the meaning of her words, even as they spill out without her really meaning to. She's been afraid of words like _forever_ and _love_ her whole life but there's no point to it.

"I'm 42 years old. I think it's high time I start taking chances."

"And the rules you mentioned?"

She chuckles. That argument seems so tiny, so inefficient that she can't believe she ever used it to hide behind.

"Rules are only bound by circumstances which I can change. I will leave the FBI but I won't run away. I will make a new path and that's that. I'm not afraid to change that anymore."

Helen nods and puts down her pen, not adding anything to her notebook. There's nothing to write down anymore because this is it.

"So, Emily. This is the last time we'll see each other. Any parting words?"

"Can I thank you?"

Helen startles a bit, like she wasn't expecting this but smiles softly. "You can do whatever you want, Emily."

"In that case, thank you. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

She sees the reluctant note on the doctor's face and before she can say anything, pushes forward. "I know that I'm the one who's changed and that I must rely on myself, I really do. But I can't ignore the fact that if it wasn't for your sessions, I wouldn't even have myself to hold on to. So thank you."

Helen's face changes into one of softness, for only a moment, before it fades back into her professional neutrality. "I'm glad you feel that way, Emily."

"Though a part of me wishes we had met under different circumstances."

"What do you mean?"

"I know that we can never be friends but I can't help but feel we would get along great outside these boundaries. But I do realize that this could never happen."

Helen nods. "It's good that you acknowledge it. I could never be your friend after I've been your psychologist. Too many secrets, too many private truths between us."

"And I know nothing about you while you know everything about me. It just makes me somewhat sad, you know? But I won't cross those boundaries."

She gives Emily a fond look and allows herself a moment of honesty. "I think I would've liked to be your friend too."

Emily stands; the hour's up and this is the very last moment. She starts to hold out her hand but decides to cross one boundary because she's overwhelmed with feelings. She pulls Helen into a quick hug and while the doctor tenses at first, she hugs Emily back for a moment before pulling back.

"I hope you will find whatever you're still looking for, Emily."

She thinks of what she will do next – because she's already figured it out – and smiles. "Thank you."

* * *

**A/N:** A real word of note: a psychologist who treats you is never your friend, can never become your friend. It's unethical and forbidden and I wish all TV and movie producers/writers would understand it.

But, I digress. There is one more chapter to come but still, tell me what you thought and I'll write even faster.


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